Before a solemn set of black eyes fluttered shut, (and would remain that way for a few hours, or the night if he was lucky) they tried to make sense of the blurred shape that approached with urgency. A few names with faces to match, all wearing the signature Akatsuki cloak, fanned out in his mind; then it all went black.

He exhaled, and time sped up in the short span of that single breath as it left his weary lungs. It was the crackle of a single flame that woke him, set alight on the wick of a white candle glued to a saucer with melted wax that dripped down the side.